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The Legend of Belarom
The Legend of Belarom is the famous story of the Knight Belarom and his quest to save his wife and king. The tale is one often repeated in drunken slurrs at taverns, chanted in a rhythmical tune that has been adapted time and time again to different cultures and languages. The story begins with the Knight Belarom, a noble and upstanding servant for his King, in a land lost to time and forgotten. Everything is fine for Belarom, he has a wife, servants, and two beautiful children. Until one day his King grows deathly sick, spending nearly all of his time on his death bed. No one knows what exactly has gripped the King in illness, as it seems he has every contagion known in the world! A certified mass of pus and ooze, ill equipped to rule a kingdom. Worried, Belarom began to investigate how he could help his King. On the day after the King fell ill, tragedy strikes again, and Belarom's wife is found ill with the same concoction of diseases. Now, this is where the drinking tale everyone knows, and the real story, diverges. The Drinking tale goes that Belarom received a vision from his holy and pure goddess, a lady of purity and healing. In reality, Belarom was stricken with visions by Shaluzard, reaching out into the world in search of a champion. From here on out, the Drinking tale closely mimics the real story, though all traces of Shaluzard and the corruption within is removed and forgotten. Belarom is told that he must scour the lands in search of six artifacts, tools of his patron god that, when combined, can cure his wife and King. Wasting no time, Belarom ventures forth into the world in search of the artifacts. The Sword of a Gorgon A stainless, black edged sword that seems to draw in light around it. The Sword of a Gorgon (Or the Gorgon Blade, as it's more commonly known) is said to be capable of piercing any armor, and when it touches flesh, it turns it into stone. The process is irreversible, and once the flesh has turned, it will slowly spread to the rest of the body unless amputated. The blade, stuck in the petrified chest of its last wielder, was stowed away in a deep crevasse, and guarded by 3 hulking one eyed brutes. Lance in hand, Belarom fought the massive creatures, skewering one of their eyes in the process, and with his nimble grace he dodged their wild and frenzied attacks. Blade in hand, all that remained of the three monsters were statues. The Helm of a Balor Also known as the Demon Helm, or in the Drinking Tale "The Helm of Fire". This helm was owned by a powerful monstrous general, a beast wreathed in fire, cloaked in shadow, and brimming with rage. The ferocity that poured out through him pooled within his helmet, and granted it magical powers. Whosoever wore the Demon Helm had the power to breathe fire, held greater stamina and strength, could see behind him, and held a sixth sense of danger accompanied with twitchy reflexes. The Demon in question had long since lost his helm, and even his name has been forgotten in time. His last remaining relic was passed on from merchant lord to merchant lord, caravan leaders in a far away desert kingdom. Belarom challenged the current owner to a battle of wits, and after 2 days and 2 nights of riddles, games, and puzzles Belarom stood victorious. Generally, the merchant lords and their Kingdom are often substituted for another race and another kingdom, to make jokes about how stupid they are, and implement subtle racist undertones. The Cloak of a Dragon A Dragon's hoard is everything to them, or atleast that's how most Dragons are. But what of the wandering Dragon? The one who holds no roots and travels from land to land, without a care in the world? There was one such Dragon, a lone wyrm who remained nameless and rootless. He refused to engage in world politics, instead acting as a wandering hermit, silently observing the world. In order to best do so, the Dragon crafted a single possession that he would keep. A magical cloak that allowed him to disguise himself as a human, and still enjoy the perks of dragonhood. The cloak was indestructible, resistant to every weapon forged, every element made, and every spell cast. It greatly increased the life span of the user, granted flight, and allowed them to disguise themselves as anything they wanted to look like. This item took the longest to find, with Belarom scouring every corner of the world to find it. Yet every time he got close, the Dragon changed and slipped his grip. The Dragon grew amused with their game of cat and mouse, seeing within Belarom the same greed for power that plagued humans and dragons alike. It was only after Belarom surrendered, and in his languishing told the Dragon of his quest, that he was finally given the Cloak. The Dragon saw Belarom's heart was pure, and so he took pity on the poor Knight. The Manticore Shield Forged by blind smiths within the burning heart of a volcano, the Manticore shield is highly dangerous and powerful. It used to be one of many hundreds of shields owned by the Smiths, until a plague wiped out their civilization and rust corroded their fine equipment. Buried deep within the heart of this Volcano, the last remaining Manticore Shield was guarded by numerous traps. Rolling boulders, swinging blades, darts, explosives, collapsing rooms, and even yet stranger things impeded Belarom's quest to have the shield. In a situation most unbefitting a knight, Belarom stopped being a Knight, and instead became a thief. Dismounting and discarding his armor, Belarom joined a band of brigands who sought the relics within aswell. Trained by their leader to be light on his feet, and fast as can be, Belarom and the thieves cut their way through the abandoned ruins like a serpent. When the time came and Belarom found the Manticore shield, he turned on the thieves and executed them with its power. Increased durability, the ability to move through shadows, and the power to discharge volleys of razor sharp poisoned needles at a rapid pace. The drinking story changes this slightly by saying the bandits attacked him first, instead of the other way around. Full Plate of the Troll Nasty, ugly, terrible creatures. It would take a truly sick man to create a suit of armor that embodied Trolls perfectly, and yet it exists. With armor like chewed up leather, this Full Plate armor grants the wearer powerful regeneration, alongside massive strength and durability. The armor itself is capable of regenerating as well, with severed limbs capable of being reattached. So long as a scrap of the wearer existed, he would persist. Ironically the one thing that could not be regenerated was petrification, at least not without some flesh restored. As fate would have it the same person who held the Gorgon Blade wore the Full Plate of the Troll. Belarom ripped the armor straight off of his petrified form. This is the least popular adventure in the story. The Witches Amulet Or as it is really called, the Amulet of Shaluzard. This unholy relic unlocked powerful magic over life and death itself. Untold arcane might, comparable to biblical stories, was held within this amulet. Venturing forth into a decrepit and terrible forest, Belarom slayed a host of monsters, battling off hunger, sickness, and anger as he toiled within the swamp for nights on end. Finally he came to the heart of the swamp, where he battled a massive monster, a creature wreathed in moss and wielding a fallen tree as a club. Through hours of nonstop combat, Belarom came to slay the beast, and recover his prize. With the combined power of these relics, Belarom cured his wife and his king of their illnesses. And they lived happily ever after. In reality, all of his time spent venturing and exploring made him grow weary of his wife and king. When he came back home, he merely allowed them to perish under the strain of their illness. With powers beyond comprehension, Belarom constructed a massive tower in the Black Mountains, and through it he ruled over the world with an iron fist. Things were set in complete decay, no progress or death, or change. Just slow and painful rot, that never ended. In this constraining world of no change, all magic except Belaroms was heavily constrained and weakened. Pooling their resources and magics, the kingdoms of the world sought to overthrow Belarom, and a catastrophic war ravaged the land. After countless lives were spent, and blood flowed like rivers through the land, Belaroms dark reign was ended. His body was immolated with magical fire, his ashes thrown across the world, and his equipment scattered with the wind. Since then no word has arisen yet of where his artifacts are, and all who venture forth to claim them, never return. And so goes the tale of the first, and greatest champion of Shaluzard.